


Intense

by Nymphalidae



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Bottom Matt Murdock, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Frank has a filthy mouth, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Matt blushes easily, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Unsafe Sex, self-surgery, top Frank Castle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:11:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphalidae/pseuds/Nymphalidae
Summary: After the events of season two, Matt throws himself into his Daredevil gig and finds himself crossing paths with The Punisher often enough that the two have a silent camaraderie going on. It's an endless cycle of saving each other's asses and an honour code that won't allow either of them to walk away indebted to the other. When Matt is injured assisting Frank, the closest safe place is his apartment and he lets The Punisher into his life to patch him up.Frank decides to stick around. For a while, at least.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in like three years. Sometimes you just gotta write the filth. Please leave kudos and comment if you enjoy reading and want more, we writers are a fragile bunch that feed on positive reinforcement.

Matt could always feel Frank's presence like a sudden storm. 

Everyone had a presence of course, but there was something different about Frank. Matt couldn't pinpoint it exactly. It could have been any number of things or just an amalgamation of them all: the sheer mass of the man, built like a brick shithouse; the self-assured way that he carried himself, every inch the impeccably trained, lethal soldier; the dangerous metallic hum of all the weapons he armed himself with, enough to bow a lesser man's back; and the intensity that was all Frank Castle. 

_Intensity_. That was it. Frank's single-minded focus and iron-clad will. Frank had a particular kind of grounding energy that was born of his own steadfast patience and mindfulness, and Matt found himself always working better whenever he was forced to ally with the vigilante. 

He begrudged that knowledge. He never actively sought out Frank's assistance because their methods were incompatible but Hell's Kitchen was small enough that they ran into the same gunfire on occasion.

Such was the case tonight. Matt was standing on a rooftop, listening to the city, head flooded with sirens and voices, but still Frank's presence cut through it all like a knife through silk. 

Matt listened, and Frank watched. He didn't make any move to alert Matt to his presence, just loitered in the shadows by the fire escape. Matt wasn't sure if it was because Frank knew that Matt was aware of him, or because he wasn't ready to announce himself just yet. Matt decided to wait.

He returned his attention to the city but allowed a stray tendril to monitor Frank. It was unusual for the other man to be quiet like this: usually he had strong words for Matt on sight, and they were never favourable. 

Eventually, he heard the flick of a lighter and the hiss and crackle of burning, smelled the smoke and Frank's breath when he exhaled. Diner coffee and mouthwash under the pungent smoke. 

“Run out of targets and hoping to muscle in on mine?” Matt asked eventually, breaking the silence when Frank's attention started prickling irritation under his skin.

Frank huffed a noise close to a laugh and finally moved out of the shadows. “I need you to do your superhero thing. I'm trying to find someone,” Frank said, always straight to the point.

Matt turned his head over his shoulder to address Frank. “You need my help?”

“Don't push it, Red,” Frank said. “You gonna help or what?”

“You gonna kill them?” Matt asked pointlessly.

“You gotta ask? C'mon, Red, we still doing this?”

“As long as you keep killing people, then yeah, we're still doing this. I'll help you, but I'm not going to help you if it means someone dies.”

Frank took a long drag on his cigarette and Matt could tell that it was burning to the filter. He flicked it away with his thumb and forefinger, and Matt could hear it sizzle as it hit a puddle of murky rainwater. “As it happens, not looking to kill anyone tonight.”

It was hard to tell when Frank was lying. He did so so convincingly that he barely even registered it as a lie; there was a momentary increase in his heartbeat, barely noticeable at all, and then it was gone. Matt had to tune out everything else to listen for the tell, but Frank seemed to be telling the truth. Either that, or Matt was off his game. It wouldn't surprise him given the blow he'd taken to the head just last night. Or all the ones before it. He hadn't taken well to the empty silence of his apartment after Elektra...

After Elektra.

“Fine, but if you're lying, I'll take you to the fifteenth myself,” Matt warned. He needed something to do, why not help Frank? They had a weird system going on, a never-ending cycle of IOUs. Matt would push Frank out of a hidden gunman's sights, and Frank would break the neck of a guy creeping up on Matt while he was occupied fighting other people. Frank's inner code included an eye for an eye policy.

Frank snorted his amusement. “Sure thing, Red.”

 

Frank needed him to locate a missing girl. The details were scant, but from what Matt could divulge, Frank had helped a hostage and she'd gone home to find her daughter missing. After the police failed to find her and didn't seem to be putting in enough manpower to bring her home, the woman had turned to Frank, tracking him down and begging him to help her again. Frank was begrudgingly impressed by the woman's tenacity and devious manipulation of cops to find out where Frank was at the time, beating on some asshole who'd gotten too handsy with a college student walking home alone.

“Wait, you're helping someone?” Matt asked callously, but he was genuinely surprised. 

“That such a surprise to you?” Frank snarked back, biting out the words. 

“I just mean that normally you're doling out punishment, not protection.”

“Yeah well, whoever's got her's gonna be punished, all right.”

“Frank,” Matt warned, and Frank waved a hand at him in agitation. “How do we even know she's being held against her will? She could've just run off, gotten scared with her mom missing.”

“Kid's fourteen and missing, Red. None of her family or friends know where she is and all her stuff's still at home.”

Matt realised that Frank probably saw the missing girl as his Lisa grown up, if she'd ever had a chance to be a teenager. There was one thing Matt had learned about Frank: the man was incredibly protective of both children and animals. Vulnerable people in general, really. Matt had seen him be real sweet to an old lady who'd had her car jacked by some assholes they were chasing. 

It took over an hour but Matt finally located the girl, her heart racing like a hummingbird's wings and her adrenaline sour with fear. Frank was right, she had been taken against her will. They made their way to where she was being held, mostly silent but making some idle conversation as they went. 

“Noticed you've been out a lot lately. Doing your devil thing,” Frank mentioned.

Matt barked a short laugh. “If that's what we're calling it. Yeah, your point?”

“Point being that even I know when to quit. When's the last time you took a night off?” 

“Aw, you getting sweet on me, Frank?” Matt deflected the question with sarcasm. “Besides, if I was taking a night off you'd be shit out of luck.”

Frank's smirk was small and wry. “Got me there,” he admitted.

Matt had said that Elektra was the only person who understood him, understood that he needed to be Daredevil because of something inside of him. That wasn't true, though. Frank understood as well as she did. He may not fully understand Matt's reluctance to take a life, but he sure as hell understood why he was out there night after night with raw knuckles and a busted nose. They were both dealing with personal shit under the pretence of doing what they thought was the right thing.

 

The girl was being held in some creep's basement, the dingy room transformed into a self-contained, bare-bones apartment that made Matt's blood run cold. The girl would have been held here indefinitely against her will if they hadn't found her: the guy was obviously planning on keeping her around. Matt tried to imagine a life trapped in that dark, damp basement and shuddered at the thought. 

It was harder than they both anticipated getting to the girl. The kidnapper, a skeevey gang member who went by the name Eight Ball, had his buddies around for a drug deal and all of them were armed to the teeth and trigger happy. 

Frank kept his word and didn't kill anyone. He shot out kneecaps, broke limbs, and fractured faces, but he didn't kill any of them. When he got to Eight Ball he beat his face into blood and gristle pulp with his fists, snapped all of his fingers back, and was about to pry off a kneecap when Matt stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He knew when Frank was gearing up to torture someone to death.

“Frank, that's enough,” he warned. He looked at Eight Ball where he was sobbing through what was left of his tearducts, each noise wet and gurgled. Broken trachea. “Let's find the girl.”

“He deserves to die, Red!” Frank argued, shrugging his hand off. “He kidnapped a kid!”

“She's alive, Frank. If she was dead I'd... I'd let you do it but she's not, she's alive and she's scared so let's just get her back home,” Matt pleaded, hating himself for admitting that he wouldn't give a shit either way if Frank killed the guy had she been dead. The city was getting to him. Karen had said this city made good people crazy, made them want to shoot themselves out of bad situations. She was right. Matt just hid behind the fact it wasn't his finger on the trigger.

Frank fought an internal war that was plain as day on his face and Matt waited with his breath held. Eventually, Frank muttered a string of curses and slammed his fist into Eight Ball's face one last time, knocking him out cold. When they opened the basement door, the girl rushed them both with a shadeless table lamp clutched in hand, swinging wildly but too small and uncoordinated to do any harm. Frank caught her easily, knocking the lamp out of her hands and holding her wrists gently but firmly enough to keep her still. The girl kicked ineffectually at Frank's shins, twisting and yelling tearfully for him to let her go.

“Hey, hey, calm down, we're here to help,” he said, adopting a placating tone, the type Matt could imagine him using when his kids woke up from a nightmare. “Ashley, right? Your mom sent us to find you.”

Ashley stopped flailing and stared into Frank's eyes like she was trying to tell if he was telling the truth. 

“It's true, Ashley, we're here to help,” Matt said, and Ashley's eyes went wide at the sight of him, staring fearfully at the horns protruding from his temples. 

“I wanna go home,” she sniffed, nose running. “Please, I just wanna go home.” 

She flung herself at Frank again, this time reaching to wrap her thin arms around him as best she could. Frank looked surprised but put an arm around her and let her cry, glancing at Matt nervously. Matt just smiled and checked the room to see if Ashley had any possessions she might want to take but there were no personal items anywhere. A dismal place indeed.

They were about to leave but Ashley shouted, “Wait! My necklace!”, and ran back down the stairs, flipping the thin mattress over and sticking her hand into a hole. She pulled out a delicate gold chain with a tiny star pendant tinkling on it and shoved it into her pocket, running back upstairs and grabbing Matt's hand. Matt tried not to show any surprise and smiled at her, though the soft expression was altered by the perpetual scowl of his mask.

On the way out, one of the gangsters who had regained consciousness rushed Matt with a switchblade and Matt barely had time to shove Ashley at Frank before the knife caught his back as he twisted away. Matt turned the guy's momentum against him and rammed him head-first into the nearest wall. Plaster crumbled onto his unconscious body, slumped in a heap on the floor, a smear of blood on the wall where he'd slid down. 

They got Ashley into a taxi home and she hugged them both before they left, shaking like a dying leaf and sniffling back tears. Frank hugged her awkwardly but Matt could see tears shining in his eyes and fought the urge to stare. They hid in an alley and watched her get into the cab with a fistful of twenties that Frank had given her.  
“Don't worry, I'm going to be listening to her until she gets home. Probably after, too,” Matt told Frank. “She's safe now.”

Frank nodded in silent appreciation and then frowned, looking at Matt's back. “You're bleeding.” he said, face creasing with concern. 

“Usually,” Matt dismissed, wincing when he straightened up and felt a fresh wave of blood trickle out of the laceration on his back. 

“You got someone to patch you up?” Frank asked. 

“I'll be fine,” Matt said, waving a hand to weakly illustrate his point. He could tell that he would need stitches, a lot of them, but Claire had left Metro General and he hadn't found anyone stupid enough to take up the burden of dealing with the aftermath of his activities. 

“It's on your back, Red, you can't reach that yourself,” Frank said. “I'm feeling charitable, so make this easy for both of us and just tell me if you got a place nearby. Otherwise, I got a safehouse a few miles out.”

Matt considered arguing, even opened his mouth with a ready retort but he closed it tightly and ground his teeth together. Sometimes, you just had to let your pride take a blow. The wound was bleeding steadily now and he didn't favour trekking it to wherever Frank was holing up. It wasn't like Frank would go running his mouth about where the Devil of Hell's Kitchen lived. Matt knew him well enough by now to know he had more honour than that. 

“My apartment's a few blocks east,” Matt said, resigning himself to having the Punisher stitching him back together. Better Frank than nobody. Frank just nodded curtly and they left, Matt grimacing with every step. 

 

The roof access alone made every cent Matt paid for his apartment worthwhile. He couldn't imagine explaining to Mrs Ives downstairs why he was dressed as the devil and was, by the time they reached his place, being mostly held up by the Punisher. They made a menacing duo, Matt in his devil get up and Frank with his bulky black leather and emblazoned skull. Less so when Matt had an arm slung over Frank's broad shoulders, but still.

Matt collapsed onto the sofa with a grunt. “Med kit's under the sink,” he supplied, and Frank fetched it without any preamble. He boiled a kettle full of water before returning to Matt, kit in hand. 

“Interesting place you got here,” Frank said. He was looking outside at the billboard as he sat next to Matt. The kettle gurgled and bubbled. 

“So I'm told,” Matt replied. He realised Frank was waiting, kit clenched in his hands, so he awkwardly manoeuvred the top half of his uniform (he would never call it a costume) off, hissing as it peeled off his wound, fibres sticking to the coagulating blood. He dumped the discarded article on the floor as the kettle whistled. The sofa shifted and Frank disappeared, filling a basin with hot water and searching for clean rags. 

“Bottom drawer,” Matt called out. 

Frank returned with the water, rags, and a clean towel after scrubbing his hands at the sink. Matt turned his back to him, torn skin protesting every movement. He heard Frank exhale just slightly harder when he took in Matt's injury. Worse than it felt, then, and considering it felt pretty bad that wasn't a great sign.

“It bad?” he asked, feeling blood sliding down his cold back. He shivered. The wound burned hot but his apartment was cold.

“Seen worse,” Frank said, soaking a rag in hot water. “Don't go blubbering on me, this'll sting.”

Matt was about to make a comeback, but Frank carefully pressed the rag to the wound and he hissed sharply instead, words wilting on his tongue. Frank worked silently, his hands surprisingly gentle. Matt figured that he would have rudimentary medical knowledge given his military career, but he didn't expect the careful way Frank treated his injury. He'd obviously had a lot of experience patching up both his comrades and himself. 

Frank got Matt to sit on the towel while he flushed the wound out, and Matt grit his teeth throughout the ordeal. 

“You wanna sit or lie down for stitches? Might take a while, and I can't promise it'll be pretty,” Frank offered. He kept catching Matt off-guard: Matt had honestly expected a hasty patch-up and a distinct lack of bedside manner.

“I can sit,” Matt said.

“You sure?” Frank asked. 

“Is it easier if I lie down?”

“It's easier if you stay still.” 

Matt chuckled, heard Frank's suggestion of a laugh carried on his next exhale. “I can keep still,” he assured him. “But I wouldn't mind the bottle of whiskey over there.” He gestured to where he stashed his booze and Frank did chuckle this time, a gruff noise in the back of his throat. He got the whiskey though, and took a long pull from the bottle before passing it to Matt. He took it gratefully and knocked back a swig. 

Frank set to stitching Matt back together again. 

The push and pull of the needle passing through his ragged flesh was familiar and would be almost soothing in its monotony if it wasn't for the pain that singed his nerve endings. By the time Frank was done bandaging him up his body was coiled tight with a tension that ached in his bones. He took another swig of the whiskey, wordlessly passing it over his shoulder to Frank. He accepted it and Matt could hear his blood-slicked fingers slipping on the bottle.

“Thanks,” Matt said awkwardly. “You didn't have to do this.”

“Yeah well, next time you can thank me by getting some better shit in than this gutrot,” Frank said, wrinkling his nose for affect. 

“Didn't take you for a whiskey snob,” Matt said, grinning even though Frank couldn't see it. “And who said there'd be a next time?”

Frank snorted. “There's always a next time with you.”

He was right. Neither of them ever talked about it, but they were finding themselves working together more often than not lately. Matt put it down to desperation on his end; he'd almost gotten used to having a partner when Elektra had walked back into his life, and now that both she and Claire were gone, he needed the back-up, whether he liked it or not. He distinctly did not like it. He was going soft. Stick had been right after all; people had made him soft, his life had made him soft. He still maintained that it was worth it, that _she_ was worth it. 

Regardless, he had to get his shit together because by working with Frank he was leaving a trail of bodies behind that he may as well have executed himself. He rarely stopped Frank from killing people when they were fighting, too busy holding his own and too empty inside to give a damn. They were attacking them. They signed their own death certificates. Everyone knew that The Punisher didn't do half measures. 

Matt stood up slowly, gingerly testing his range of movement and finding it sorely lacking. He grunted when he felt his wound tug painfully, and Frank was up in a second, placing a rough hand on his shoulder. 

“Easy now,” he chided. “You go opening that up again and I ain't gonna be here to fix it.” Frank pulled his hand away, leaving a smear of tacky blood on Matt's skin. It was the only point of warmth on Matt's body. 

“Shit, I didn't think – what about you? Are you hurt?” Matt asked, although he hadn't detected any major injuries, it was rude to not at least ask. 

“Nah, I'm fine. Few nicks and scrapes, s'all,” Frank muttered, scratching the side of his face. His blunt nails rasped against the stubble. “You should go clean up, I'll deal with all this.” He waved a hand at the mess on the sofa, the bloodied, damp towels and rags. 

“It's fine, I can handle it from here.”

“Go clean up, Red,” Frank reiterated, collecting the towels off the sofa and turning his back as though that was that, he said it, Matt did it. Matt gaped at him a moment before shuffling off to the bathroom, knowing just how well arguing with Frank went.

He used a washcloth to clean away the worst of the dried blood that flaked off his skin and rinsed his face, mask discarded on the side. 

Wearing his mask seemed redundant. Frank knew where he lived now, what would stop him turning up out of the blue? He'd find out eventually. It seemed better to get it out of the way than to let Frank catch him unaware. At the same time, he didn't think he was ready to have that conversation with Frank. _Hey, it's me, your blind lawyer Matt Murdock._

It was less about his identity, because really, what did it matter to Frank? He's said as much that night on the roof, he didn't care who Matt was. It was more about the blind thing. Frank had no idea he was blind, didn't treat him like he was handicapped, but what if he suddenly started treating Matt differently? Started thinking he couldn't-  
No. It didn't matter what Frank thought. The fact of the matter was Frank knew where he lived and Matt had run out of people that he cared about. He hadn't seen Karen or Foggy since Elektra died, hadn't seen Claire since she left, hadn't really had much civil conversation for months, in fact. So who was he protecting? Nobody, certainly not himself. It didn't matter any more.

He pulled the door open before he could change his mind, popping his glasses on. 

Frank was on the sofa, drinking Matt's whiskey, hands scrubbed clean. There was still a smear of Matt's blood on the bottle. 

“You got any antibiotics?” Frank asked, turning at the sound of the bathroom door opening. His eyes widened a fraction and he stared at Matt, giving the distinct impression of having his mouth hanging open in shock even though his lips were pressed in a tight line. “Well, shit.”

“You've seen my apartment, seemed like the next thing would be my face. Figured it was better to get it out the way.” Matt shrugged as if his heart hasn't picked up a staccato rhythm. He walked to the fridge and pulled out two beers, trying to ignore the way Frank was staring at him like he'd sprouted a second head out of his ass. “And yeah, I do.”

“You just gonna pretend like this isn't a big deal? _Matt_ ,” he added with emphasis.

Matt sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and lingering by the cool of the open refrigerator. “Was hoping to.”  
“Guess your luck's run dry for the night,” Frank said, but he waited until Matt passed him a bottle to continue. “So how does that work, exactly?” 

Matt settled into the armchair opposite Frank, leaning forward to avoid putting pressure on his injury. “How does what work?”

Frank snorted. “Do I really gotta ask? How's the blind thing work, or are you not actually blind?”

Matt sighed. “I'm blind. I just see in other ways. It's complicated.”

“Try me.” Frank leaned back in his seat, asserting that he wasn't going anywhere.

“My other senses are heightened because I'm missing my sight. Probably has something to do with the accident.”

“Accident?”

“Yeah, car accident. I wasn't hit but I got this chemical waste in my eyes and it blinded me. I was nine.”

“Christ,” Frank muttered, leaving a long pause between them while he sipped thoughtfully at his beer. “So you can't see me right now, but you can 'see' me?”

“Yeah, it's hard to explain. I know where you are, I know how you're sitting, hell I even know how you're feeling.”

“Wait, what? You know how I'm feeling?” Frank asked, affronted and a little wary. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, feel your uh, energy, I guess. Like I said, it's complicated.”

“You can hear my heart beating over there?”

“I could hear your heart beating down the block if I concentrated.”

“Well, that explains a lot. Like how you could hear me.” _One batch, two batch, penny and dime._

Matt nodded and sipped his beer, thumbing the label. “Any more questions?” he asked eventually.

Frank huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, a lot of 'em, but I should get going.” He got up off the sofa and put his empty bottle on the table, giving Matt one last lingering, curious glance before heading for the roof. 

Matt nodded again, relieved. “Thanks again, Frank.” 

“See you around, Red,” Frank said, ducking out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, I'm here with porn. Things are about to get explicit, folks. Thanks to everyone who has commented, left kudos, or bookmarked so far. Keeps those creative juices flowing. If you want shit to get more intense be sure to let me know if it got YOUR juices flowing. Ba-dum-tss *fingerguns out the room*.

Matt was right. Frank did just show up at his place unannounced. 

Not like there was any way for him to announce himself; they hadn't exactly exchanged numbers. So it wasn't exactly a surprise when Matt let himself in after going to the grocery store to restock his neglected fridge and found Frank stitching himself up in his kitchen. He had shed his leather coat and armour and they were folded neatly over the back of a chair. The smell of him was stronger without the added layers, adrenaline-sharp sweat and blood and gun smoke. His heartbeat was as slow and steady as it ever was, only hitching briefly when he laced the needle through a particularly tender spot. 

Frank looked up at Matt and offered a small smile that was almost bashful, eyes darting to the bags in Matt's hands. “Was beginning to think you didn't eat,” he said. “And who the hell keeps baking soda in the fridge? It's a pantry item.”

Matt was about to make a quip about Frank not seeming like the baking type, but he remembered that Frank had had a family once upon a time, kids who probably liked baking fairy cakes or whatever the hell kids did. It was easier to imagine Frank with his kids now, baking in some suburban kitchen with his little girl, ever since Matt had started to get to know him as more than just The Punisher. Instead, Matt just said, “I'm going to start charging rent if you're going to be raiding my kitchen for supplies.”

Frank chuckled, returning his attention to his arm. “Consider this payback for Wednesday.”

It had been five days since Frank had helped Matt and Matt had ended up revealing his identity. Frank wasn't treating him any different at all, but he was spending a lot of time looking at Matt's face like he was trying to connect it to the devil mask. Matt's injury was healing well. After Frank had left, he'd checked it out and found the stitches to be almost meticulously neat, a stark contrast to the hack job he was doing on himself. Matt sighed and deposited the bags on the counter. 

“Give me that, you're making a mess of it,” he said, holding his hand out for the needle. 

Frank eyed him for a moment. “You can do that? I mean, I know you can fight and shit but,” he paused, fumbling for the right words. _You're blind._

Matt interjected hastily. “I've had a lot of experience patching people up.” The last person he'd patched up had been Elektra, right here in the kitchen over the sink that Frank was perched next to.

Frank stared at him a beat longer before silently passing the needle to Matt and turning his arm towards him. He was sitting on top of the counter and Matt stood slightly to his side and kept his arm steady with one hand. It was probably unnecessary as he doubted Frank was going to flinch. He'd seen the man take a knife to the thigh and not miss a beat between pulling it out and sticking it into the eye of the person who'd put it there. But Frank didn't protest the touch and Matt didn't pull away. Frank's skin was warm, softer under the coarse hair than his calloused and scarred hands.

“You're gonna get blood on your shirt,” Frank pointed out.

“I'll be careful.” Matt shrugged crookedly before focusing his attention on Frank's wound. It was long and wide, a bullet graze, not too deep at the ends but bleeding steadily at the centre. “Do you mind if I touch it? I need to get a better idea of what I'm working with.”

Frank grimaced but didn't make a move to take back the needle. “Go ahead, knock yourself out.”

Matt cautiously traced a lone fingertip along the edge of the wound, keeping the pressure as light as possible. Frank hissed quietly, his heartbeat picking up a little. “Sorry,” Matt muttered, but he continued mapping out Frank's injury.

It took him a second to realise that the increase in Frank's heartbeat wasn't a pain response. He wasn't hurting him. It didn't even out either, keeping it's faster thrum as Matt traced the other side of the gash. If Matt's touch wasn't hurting him, then what was – Oh.

_Oh._

Matt hesitated for a split second before carrying on, applying just the barest amount of extra pressure and telling himself it was only because he was curious about what would happen. Frank's breath hitched in the back of his throat, inaudible to anyone but Matt. He shifted the fingers that were wrapped around Frank's arm, suddenly painfully aware of how wide his biceps were, how Matt's fingers were far from touching. 

Matt pulled his finger away and prayed that Frank didn't notice the heat that had suddenly crept unbidden into his cheeks. At least he was wearing his glasses.

He focused on finishing Frank's hasty stitches, careful to provide Frank with the same gentle treatment he had provided for Matt. Frank didn't make any sound or move of discomfort, but his heartbeat didn't lower either. He watched Matt work in silence, his eyes on Matt's face more often than his hands. Matt felt Frank's gaze drop to his mouth on more than one occasion, and it was hard to keep his hands steady when his heart was pounding in his chest. 

Was Frank Castle checking him out? It felt like Frank Castle was checking him out. 

Of all the things Matt could have come home to, this was the absolute last thing he would ever have expected. And Frank, the bastard, wasn't even being subtle about it. He was outright staring now, one corner of his mouth tugging upward in the barest hint of a smirk, somewhere between smug and self-satisfied and oh yeah, _smug._

“Do you mind?” Matt snapped, irritated and not the least bit flustered. 

“Nope,” Frank said, popping the 'P'. _Bastard. Smug, arrogant bastard._

“You're an asshole,” Matt said, and Frank just chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. 

“And you're blushing,” he said, amusement bright in his voice. “Red's a good name for you.”

“Shut up, or do you want me to _accidentally_ pull a few of these out?” Matt grumbled, although he could feel his blush deepening because his blood was a traitor.

“I want you to hurry up and get the job done already,” Frank said impatiently. “So I can bend you over this counter and fuck you boneless.”

Matt dropped the needle at the same time as his mouth dropped open. He made a few aborted attempts at coherent speech, getting out only shocked syllables and confused stutters. His face was positively burning, hell his whole body was burning with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal that was dizzyingly potent. “Jesus, Frank,” he choked out. 

“Careful, choirboy,” Frank said, dropping down off the counter and making Matt step backwards until he was pressed against the opposite bench. “Ain't taking the lord's name in vain a sin?” he said when he stopped in front of Matt, dangerously close and absolutely looming over him.

“Compared to what you just suggested, I don't think it matters,” Matt said, swallowing thickly. Frank's body was radiating heat and the scent of him was cloying, musky with the arousal that Matt could sense. He wasn't touching Matt – _not yet, anyway_ – but his thighs and chest brushed against Matt's as he gazed down at him, tall and broad, a solid wall of muscle. 

Frank made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Don't remember making any suggestions,” he said, and Matt could feel his voice rumbling in his chest where it was pressing closer to Matt, and Matt's heart stuttered in his chest. Then, Frank's hands were moving, one to Matt's waist and the other to his jaw where it stroked his skin before sliding to the back of his skull and cupping, fingers threading through the short hair and holding Matt in place.

His heart was beating erratically now, breath coming in short and quick, but he didn't try to move away. Not like there was anywhere to move with Frank crowding his front and the counter digging into his back. 

Frank studied him for a moment before his hand left his waist and he plucked Matt's glasses off, Matt instantly averting his gaze and feeling suddenly very exposed. 

“Look at me, Red,” Frank murmured, hand retuning to hold Matt's waist, thumb idly tracing circles through his shirt. 

Matt laughed, stilted and awkward. “Yeah, no can do,” he said, aiming for wry and succeeding only in sounding breathless. 

“You know what I mean,” Frank huffed, breath tickling Matt's face. “I've never seen your eyes before. Wanna know what colour they are.”

Matt felt his throat constrict for reasons he didn't want to name. He took in a deep breath through his nose and regretted it the instant he got a heady lungful of Frank, of his masculine energy and the sharp, electric scent of what Matt was certain was an erection thickening in his pants. He hesitantly lifted his eyes up, settling them as close to Frank's eyes as he could. He chewed at his lip anxiously and Frank made a low noise of approval and thumbed along Matt's jawline, fingers still threaded through the hair at his nape. His hands were so large and warm. 

“Jesus Christ, Red,” he grunted, attention entirely on Matt's mouth. “You have no idea what you look like right now, do you?”

Before Matt could answer Frank tightened his grip in Matt's hair and tilted his head to the side, covering his mouth with his own with an urgency that wasn't rough but held the promise of sweet cruelty. Matt gasped in surprise and Frank took the opportunity to snake his tongue into Matt's mouth, jerking his body forward by the waist and pushing him into the counter with his own body as the same time. The result was Matt completely pressed up against Frank's body, Frank's thigh between his legs and the hard edge of the counter digging into his back, but every point of contact burned in the best and most confusing way possible. 

Frank kissed like he did everything else: intensely. 

He kissed long and slow and dirty, like he was fucking Matt's mouth with his tongue and lips and teeth, _God_ the teeth that would bite and nibble at his quickly swelling lips. Matt was so consumed by the fire that burned under his skin and the overwhelming intensity that was Frank Castle that he didn't even notice Frank's erection digging into his hip at first.

He broke the kiss as best he could with Frank holding him in place, turning his head away and feeling his scalp burn when it tugged Frank's grasp in his hair. Frank didn't move back, didn't even stop kissing him, just moved his attention to Matt's helpfully bared neck. 

Matt gasped sharply and the sound trailed off into the smallest moan. “I – I can't, I've not – Jesus, Frank, what're we, what're you doing?” he bit down hard on his lip when Frank's teeth teased at his neck, followed by the soothing pass of his tongue swiping the bite mark and the scrape of Frank's stubble. 

Frank just chuckled quietly against his throat, hand sliding down from his waist to grab Matt's ass and haul him impossibly closer, forcing Matt to effectively ride Frank's thigh. Matt sunk his teeth deeper into his lip this time, choking back a whimper when his own erection ground into Frank's thigh with the movement. He was hard, _damn it_ , of course he was, he hadn't even realised but now he was painfully aware of how hard he was from a damn kiss. Frank felt it too, smirking as he nipped at Matt's earlobe and made him shudder.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured, licking the shell of Matt's ear. 

Frank pushed Matt up onto the counter then, grabbing him by the hips and wrapping his legs around his waist as he settled between them, diving back in to kiss Matt with a ravenous hunger. Matt found himself clinging onto Frank's back as his mouth was downright ravaged by the marine, stubble scraping and burning Matt's skin in the most delicious way, the best kind of contrast to his soft, wet tongue and full, chapped lips. 

An onslaught of sensations assaulted Matt's senses, all of them Frank and all of them close to overwhelming. It had been months since he had been with someone, and he had never really been with a guy before disregarding some drunken fooling around with a guy from college. The strong, sturdy muscle underneath his hands and pressing into his body was new and thrilling, the insistent grind of Frank's hips into his making him moan into the kiss before he could even consider stopping himself. 

The sound evidently encouraged Frank because he roughly ground his hips into Matt and tongued into his mouth filthily, making Matt groan and his hips jerk forward into the intoxicating friction. He clutched desperately at Frank, fingers clawing into his back through his shirt and earning him a deep grunt from the larger man. Matt's legs tightened around Frank at the next roll of his hips, lungs burning with how long they'd been kissing but he had no desire to stop. 

Fuck it, he didn't want to stop.

There was something pleasantly freeing in being forced to submit to Frank's control like this, to have to open his mouth and his legs to him and let him take what he wanted. It was easy when he got so much in return, a slew of pleasure and just a hint of delicious pain as Frank tangled his fingers into his hair and _pulled_. 

Matt gasped as his head was pulled back and his throat was bared and vulnerable, Frank descending onto it and sucking bruising kisses and bites into his skin. Matt lips were wet and swollen and he tongued at them to find ruby drops of blood beading on the surface from Frank's savage kisses. 

Frank yanked his collar open, buttons scattering and fabric ripping loudly. He licked a stripe along Matt's collarbone and bit down hard, Matt yelping in an undignified manner but beyond caring. Everything about him was undignified right now, from his wantonly spread legs to his glistening, bloody lips. 

Speaking of blood, Frank's arm was trickling wear he had pulled the stitches. Matt hadn't even gotten the chance to finish them. The salty, copper tang of it wasn't off-putting however, as he had come to subconsciously associate the smell of blood with Frank. 

“Frank,” Matt panted, fisting his hands in Frank's shirt. “Frank, you're bleeding.”

Frank's only response was to tear open the rest of Matt's shirt with one hard pull, baring his chest to his groping hands and exploring mouth. Frank's hands were all over him, touching and squeezing and caressing, and then they found his nipples and Matt arched his back into the touch. Frank hummed a sound of satisfied amusement, thumbing his nipples roughly and pulling long, breathy moans from Matt's throat. 

“So sensitive,” Frank said, and Matt tried to glare at him but failed drastically if Frank's wolfish grin was anything to go by. God, he was such a smug asshole, but he was devastatingly attractive and so God damn good with his – well, with his everything. His hands, his mouth, his tongue, his teeth... Matt shivered, wondering exactly how far Frank wanted to take this. 

“You're a – oh God, _fuck_ ,” Matt cursed, biting his lip when Frank laved his tongue over one of Matt's nipples. “You're a fucking bastard, Frank Castle,” he choked out, ending on a noise that was more of a whine than he'd ever admit to making. 

Frank bit his nipple in punishment and Matt did whine then, eyes squeezing shut and body quaking. Frank twisted his other nipple with his free hand, the other busy pushing down into the back of Matt's trousers to grab a handful of his ass.

“You're fucking gorgeous, Red,” he replied belatedly, pulling back to look down at him with an expression somewhere between awe and wild hunger. It made Matt's toes curl and the heat in his stomach coil tightly. He was so hard it hurt, his cock trapped in his trousers with Frank's hand cupping his ass like he owned it. “Look at you, baby, already so fucking wrecked,” he murmured in that deep, rough voice that made Matt's insides melt, the surprising pet name doing strange, twisting things to Matt's stomach. 

The next thing he knew Frank was lifting him off the bench and he had to tighten his arms and legs around him lest he be dropped. But then, he knew that Frank wouldn't drop him, he carried him too easily to even entertain the notion. His kept his hand shoved into Matt's pants, holding him up as the other gripped his thigh and he carried him out of the kitchen and away from the counter Matt was certain he was about to be bent over. 

He bypassed the sofa, Matt's second choice, and threw Matt onto the bed where he sprawled inelegantly, too shocked to move for a moment, a moment long enough for Frank to strip his shirt over his head in one smooth, sinuous motion. He climbed onto the bed, situating himself between Matt's legs and boxing him in with his arms either side of his head. 

Frank's chest barely grazed Matt's, but the hard ridges of his abdomen did, and the sparse, coarse hair that trailed down his navel and disappeared into his pants. Frank didn't make a move to touch or kiss him, just stared down at Matt until he was fidgeting uncomfortably.  
“Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't tell when someone's staring at me,” he grumbled, turning his face away and into the bed.

Frank grabbed his jaw and turned his face back, thumbing over his lower lip thoughtfully before that thumb was being pushed into Matt's mouth. Matt was too surprised to do more than gasp, which just let Frank push it in easier until Matt could taste him on his tongue. He tasted like salt, blood, gunpowder, and _Frank_. Matt didn't even realise he was sucking on his digit until he heard Frank's breath hitch and felt his cock throbbing where is was pushed against Matt's. A blush spread through Matt's body, hopefully unnoticeable given how overheated he was.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Frank grunted, repeating himself. “Those lips, Red. Those lips are the real reason I started callin' you that. So fucking pretty, baby.”

Matt wasn't sure if he wanted to cringe away or melt into those words. They were embarrassing, yes, in a way Matt had never experienced before, but Frank sounded so wrecked, so enamoured that he couldn't take it as anything other than the compliment it was. Frank's hips were rolling into Matt's again, sending lazy waves of pleasure through his body and loosening his limbs.

“Want those lips around my cock, baby,” Frank continued, thrusting his thumb gently in and out of Matt's mouth, and Matt wasn't sure if it was the shock or the fact he'd do anything to keep Frank talking like that and touching him like that, but he let him, and he tentatively licked it on the next thrust in, gaining a predatory growl from Frank. “Want them spread open nice and wide, all wet and swollen and – _fuck_ ,” he grunted, grinding his erection hard into Matt's, making him moan in response. “Gonna fuck that pretty mouth, Red, feel you gag on me, watch you swallow my cum,” he promised, pulling his thumb out of Matt's mouth with a pop. 

Matt panted lightly, closing his eyes and breathing hard. “Frank, I've never... I don't know how,” he admitted. 

“Don't need to know nothin' baby, just gotta open wide and take it like a good boy,” Frank murmured filthily into his ear, and Matt felt a shiver chase through his body at the words. God, he'd never considered himself submissive before, certainly never thought he was gay or bisexual or whatever the fuck this was, but something about Frank, about how big and strong and dominating he was just made it feel so, so good. And the shame that prickled under his skin? That made it better. 

Suddenly, Matt was manhandled to the floor where he folded to his knees, mind chaotic with the knowledge of what was about to happen, what he was about to let happen. What he _wanted_ to happen. 

Frank stood over him, one hand petting through Matt's hair as the other quickly worked to free himself from his pants. He pulled his cock free and Matt could taste it in the air, his mouth watering in some kind of Pavlovian response he didn't even know was there. He swallowed thickly, heart racing and a bead of sweat trickling down his neck. Frank jacked himself slowly a couple of times before his hand tightened in Matt's hair and _fuck, Jesus Christ it's going to happen._

Frank rubbed his cockhead over Matt's lips, wetting them with salty precome and groaning appreciatively at the sight. Matt felt alive, so alive for the first time in so long listening to the laboured breathing and guttural noises Frank was making. He felt Frank nudge forward and let his lips part and slacken, the head of his cock slipping into Matt's mouth like it was meant to be there.

It was different, but it was a good kind of different. Frank's presence was as solid and grounding as ever, the hand fisting Matt's hair and the cock slowly thrusting into his mouth making Matt feel like he was being taken apart piece by piece. 

Matt snapped back to himself and started sucking tentatively, not sure what he was doing but if Frank's grunt was anything to go by, he was doing something right. He copied what he liked done to himself, tonguing the thick shaft and finding the ridge of the vein that ran engorged down the underside. Frank was heavy on his tongue, thick in a way that was oddly satisfying, filling up Matt's mouth and stretching his lips in a way he could only imagine was obscene. 

“Shit, Red, your fucking mouth,” Frank grunted, snapping his hips forward harder and pushing Matt down onto his cock. He hit the back of Matt's throat and he gagged, eyes squeezing shut as tears sprang into them. Frank groaned above him, pulling back and thrusting inside again. He rocked his hips at a steady pace, not too fast and not too hard, brushing the back of Matt's throat until Matt had familiarised himself with the feeling enough to relax. He kept his jaw loose but his lips tight around Frank's shaft, tonguing lazily at the underside with every thrust.

The hand that wasn't fisted in Matt's hair moved to his face, Frank pressing his thumb against Matt's cheek to feel himself inside his mouth. He traced Matt's lips next, glistening scarlet and stretched so perfectly around his cock. He stopped thrusting and Matt looked up, confused. 

“Suck,” Frank ordered, voice rough even by his standards. “Give me your hand.”

Matt brought his hand up and Frank took hold of it, moving it to wrap around the base of his cock. He kept his hand over Matt's and encouraged him to move. Matt did, sliding it up and down what wasn't in his mouth and sucking hard on what was, pulling back until only the head was throbbing on his tongue and dipping it into the slit. Frank hissed, hand tightening painfully in Matt's hair and sending shocks of pleasure through his body. He was learning all kinds of things about himself tonight. Frank let go of his hand, letting him take over. 

“That's it, baby, doing so good,” Frank praised, and Matt felt that peculiar warmth in his chest. He distracted himself from it by bobbing his head up and down Frank's cock, mind processing just how fucking huge he really was now that he could feel all of him. Shit, if he had tried to bend Matt over the counter and shove that into him, Matt was positive he would have broken. 

Frank started thrusting again, pushing further into Matt's mouth than before. His throat constricted and he gagged, but Frank didn't stop. He thrust in slowly but insistently until he was at the back of Matt's throat and Matt had to either relax or choke. He tried to relax, breathing deep through his nose and telling his body to stop freaking out. Frank thrust forward and Matt's throat opened around him, fluttering as he fought off his gag reflex. Frank moaned then, louder than before but just as guttural and animalistic. 

“Good boy,” he groaned, and Matt's eyes widened when he heard himself moan in response. It made Frank smirk and thrust his cock further down Matt's throat, and this time Matt did gag, choking around the invasion as spit ran down his chin. “Yeah, you're a good boy for me, aren't you? Being such a good little cockslut.” 

Matt moaned again, letting the vibration stimulate Frank, who thrusted harder until Matt's hand was knocking against his lips. He let go and Frank's cock slid deeper down his throat. Frank moaned and it made Matt's dick throb. He hadn't even thought about himself since getting on his knees but now he ground his palm into his bulge, eyes burning with tears as he gagged again. 

Frank pulled out, letting Matt gulp in air and cough when he inhaled too hard. Frank soothed him with a hand through his hair while he steadied his breathing, throat burning and eyes watering. He wiped at his mouth and chin and his hand came away soaked in his own spit. Jesus, Frank had made a mess of him already and he hadn't even finished. 

Frank growled and Matt snapped his head up to look at him. “Look so good right now, Red,” Frank said, stroking himself. 

“Yeah? Tell me.” Matt was surprised that the words even left his mouth but at this point, the only thing to do was go with the flow. 

And he'd be a dirty rotten liar if he didn't admit to wanting to hear more of Frank's sinfully perfect brand of dirty talk. 

“Open,” Frank ordered, and Matt obeyed instantly, letting Frank fuck roughly back into his mouth. He didn't hesitate to push Matt down onto his cock, pushing into his throat and grunting with the contractions of Matt's throat. He set a rougher pace than before, shoving Matt to meet his fast thrusts. 

“You look so wrecked, Red, so dazed and perfect and _fuck_ ,” he groaned, grinding his hips into Matt's face. Matt could feel him all the way down his throat. “Lips're so swollen and red, all shiny and slick. You got bruises comin' up on your neck, _my_ bruises,” he punctuated the last two words with deep thrusts. Saliva was dribbling lewdly down Matt's chin, dripping onto his chest. 

“Wanna cover you in 'em, baby, get you all marked up real pretty,” Frank said, and Matt's cock twitched. Frank devolved into harsh, panting breaths and choked back moans. His thrusts grew uneven, erratic, and Matt sucked harder in response. “Fuck, _fuck_ , gonna come, baby,” he growled, shoving Matt down hard and jerking spasmodically as he emptied down Matt's throat.

Matt gagged, choking on the ropes of thick, hot cum that spurted into his throat, but he didn't try to pull away. He struggled to breathe through his nose, pressed almost flush to Frank's crotch as his cock pulsated inside of him. 

Matt gasped in air when he was finally released, coughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His mouth tasted like semen and his face was wet with a mixture of that, tears, and his own spit. He realised he was shaking slightly at the same time Frank did. He bent down and pulled Matt up like he weighed nothing, pushing him gently onto the bed again and climbing over him again.

Frank divested him of his trousers quickly, Matt kicking his shoes off but otherwise doing nothing to help as the last of his clothes were stripped from him. Frank pulled his briefs off with his trousers, leaving him completely bare and exposed while Frank remained in his combats and boots. 

Frank leaned in and kissed Matt slow but no less dirty than before, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He wrapped his hand firmly around Matt's cock and stroked slowly, pulling a long, needy whine out of Matt.

“You got a hell of a mouth on you, Red,” he complimented, jacking him faster and kissing a trail down his neck. 

He kept going, leaving small bite marks in his wake until he reached Matt's nipple. He flicked his tongue rapidly over it, sealing his mouth around the hard, rosy nub and sucking noisily. Matt's back arched off the bed and he thrust his hips into Frank's hand, the callouses catching his skin and creating the perfect friction combined with the precome that leaked steadily out of his cock. 

Frank bit down on his nipple and twisted his fist around the head of Matt's cock and Matt howled out a plaintive whine, throwing his head back and writhing into Frank's touch. 

“Do that again,” he begged, voice ragged and breathless with need. 

Frank chuckled, hot breath tickling Matt's skin. He complied eagerly, nibbling and sucking ardently as he worked Matt's cock with an expert hand. Matt wondered how many lovers he'd had, how many had been men, how man he'd brought apart like he was taking Matt apart, flooding his body with heat and tension. His nerve endings sang out under his ministrations as he switched to Matt's other nipple and the pain pulsed pleasure directly to his dick, which throbbed in Frank's hand. 

“Oh God, Frank, I'm close,” he warned, voice shuddering. 

Frank's teeth clamped down hard on his nipple and he squeezed his cockhead firmly as he twisted his slippery fist around it and Matt cried out, arching off the bed and thrusting desperately into Frank's fist as he came with such force that he felt his mind wipe out.

Frank pumped his cock through it, milking him through the shaking vestiges of his orgasm as he moved to kiss Matt's slack mouth lazily. Matt could barely coordinate his tongue with his brain but Frank didn't mind at all, claiming his mouth thoroughly as Matt shuddered beneath him, arms weakly wrapping around his broad shoulders.

They separated after a while, Frank rolling off Matt and pulling him into his side with one strong arm, the other holding him close in a gesture of intimacy that didn't take Matt off guard this time. He was boneless and hollowed out, floating in a haze of pleasure. He didn't care that he was covered in his own semen and Frank didn't care that he was getting it on him either. He just let Matt listen to his heart as it evened out with his breath, skin cooling under Matt's cheek.

“Holy fuck,” Matt whispered, and Frank laughed, chest shaking under Matt who was grinning like a fool. The sound of Frank's laughter was warm and unrestrained, and it made Matt's smile stretch wider. “How long have you uh, wanted to do that, exactly?” he asked shakily, tracing his fingertips idly down Frank's chest and abs, mapping out every inch of his skin. He felt scars along the way, lots of them, some small and smooth, others nasty keloids. 

“Since I saw you biting your lips all frustrated when I had you chained on that rooftop,” Frank replied, carding his fingers through Matt's hair. “Didn't think it'd be like this, though.”

“Me neither,” Matt agreed, flattening his hand and stroking up Frank's torso. “So all this time you've been shooting me in the head and punching me in the gut, you also wanted to, what was it, bend me over something and fuck me?”

“Oh, I still plan on doing that,” Frank smirked. 

“Why didn't you?” Matt asked, curious now.

“You'd never been with a man before. Didn't want to hurt you.”

“This is really fucked up, you know.” Matt didn't know what it was they had exactly, but it was undeniably fifty shades of fucked up. But he started laughing and found he couldn't stop, and Frank was laughing with him and none of it mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uni starts up in a couple of days so I'm probably going to be posting more sporadically but I've got a lot of good shit in the works for good boys and girls who leave kudos and comments. The people who just shame wank and leave in silence get nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual but damn I ain't missed the grind of uni. Hopefully the porn makes up for the length. Endless love to everyone who has commented and left kudos so far, you guys are the shit.

Matt had to restock his medical supplies, so he headed out into the city to do some shopping. The people on the registers would always become more surprised and curious with each item that they rang up, clearly contemplating why a blind man needed so many bandages, bottles of antiseptic, and packages of curved sewing needles, but they never asked, except for the time a perplexed cashier asked if he'd picked up the wrong thing by mistake since, y'know, he's blind. 

The kid had meant well, holding a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in one hand and a bottle of iodine in the other, but Matt had started ordering the more unusual items online afterwards. 

_Should probably start ordering in bulk_ , he thought with idle amusement as he left the store with his goods in hand. 

He made a half-hearted attempt to use his stick, tapping only occasionally as his mind wandered. So. He'd done _that_. With Frank. He was undeniably a little shaken by it, questioning damn near everything he knew about himself as he lay awake at night in a bed that had smelled like sex and Frank – who, honestly, smelled like sex to Matt anyway, if sex smelled like masculine virility and primal energy, like gunpowder and blood. 

Frank had left an hour later after Matt had forced him to sit still long enough to repair his torn sutures. He'd left Matt with a cocky smirk and a hand groping his ass. It wasn't half as awkward as Matt had been anticipating; it was almost like nothing had changed, except now Frank would make vulgar comments about his various features and body parts to get him flustered as he was tending to his injuries.

Frank took everything in stride. Go figure. 

Matt shouldn't even be surprised that he was level-headed about the whole thing. It had been a surprise to Matt so he was still processing everything that had happened, but Frank had been jerking off while thinking about Matt's mouth for a while now if the things he'd said last night were true. Frank had had plenty of time to recalibrate his perception of Matt; Matt was still struggling with the fact he'd let a man like Frank facefuck him and gotten off on it.

It wasn't even that Frank was a man, because honestly? He'd gotten over being vaguely attracted to men back in college. There just hadn't been many opportunities to explore that side of himself and there weren't a lot of men that got his heart racing. Which meant that there was only one reason he was freaking out just a little bit: it was because it was Frank.

Frank made his heart race. He also made his blood run cold. He and Frank had never seen eye to eye on a lot of things, and even though Matt was despairingly apathetic about most things these days after Elektra's passing he couldn't pretend to be okay with Frank's version of justice. 

After Elektra. He felt like his life could be segmented into halves: Before Elektra, After Elektra.

Maybe that was it. Frank reminded him of Elektra. He had that same easy disregard for life, the same darkness that she'd carried inside of her, the same uncontrollable fire that had burned bright within her. Matt was blind in more ways than one for not realising why he was inexplicably drawn to Frank in the first place. He'd always been attracted to the darkness, even as he so desperately fought against his own.

Maybe he needed it. Maybe he needed someone else's darkness so he wouldn't give into his own. What was it Elektra liked to say? _Power is sexy_ , he heard in her melodic accent.

Conversely, maybe Frank needed someone like Matt to keep him in line, even if he didn't know it yet. Matt still felt guilty about what he'd said last night when they were rescuing Ashley. He'd said that he wouldn't have cared about Frank killing Eight Ball if he'd killed Ashley, and on some level it was true. Would he have mourned the loss of that particular life? No. Would he have been able to stand there and let Frank kill him as he'd claimed? No. 

He ran the scenario through his head over and over again, imagining Frank about to kill that lowlife while he just stood and watched. Every time, he saw himself springing into action at the last minute and stopping Frank as his stubborn conscience forced him into latent action.

It was different when they were in the midst of a fight. Matt was busy dealing with his own shit and didn't always have time to interfere with Frank's murderous intent. Sometimes he intervened and wound up fighting Frank, sometimes he just cursed him out and stalked off in anger. Other times he just kept his mouth shut and pretended that the dead bodies on the ground didn't get to him.

 

Matt returned home and put everything he'd purchased into its place, mind still processing last night's events and getting distracted by memories of what had happened in the kitchen he now stood in, clutching a bottle of antiseptic too tightly as he recalled Frank pushing him against the bench and lustfully devouring his mouth. The memory made his cock stir in his pants and he quickly shoved everything under the sink and left the kitchen with his cheeks pinking like a God damn virgin.

Frank certainly had a way of making him feel inexperienced. It went beyond the fact he'd never gone further than awkward, drunken handjobs in his dorm years ago. It was the way that Frank was, how to put it? Dominant as fuck.

He had the filthiest mouth Matt had even been privy to and he just... took what he wanted. But he took it with consent and with a care that surprised Matt. He'd been adamant about fucking Matt on the kitchen bench but had refrained when Matt's nerves and inexperience became apparent. He respected Matt, which at first Matt had been anxious about, certain that once you let someone facefuck you and call you 'baby' there was no way he was going to see you as an equal after that. Especially Frank. Especially their unique relationship and lines of work. 

But Frank didn't treat him like he was any less now than he was before he got on his knees for him. He clearly didn't have any internalised homophobia going on because he didn't freak out remotely, didn't seem at all apologetic for what they'd done or in need of time to process shit like Matt did, because the next time Matt saw Frank the older man shoved him hard against the nearest wall and kissed him roughly until he was a shaking, moaning wreck. 

He figured out the fastenings on Matt's uniform and got his cock into his hand, Matt shivering before a hot, wet mouth was sucking him hard. Frank sucked cock like he fought, precise and dirty and with his full attention, and Matt was reduced to gasping moans and cries of Frank's name, which made Frank suck him harder and Matt was more than happy to remind himself whose mouth he was fucking if it got Frank working him like that. 

When he came, it was with a strangled shout that sounded vaguely like 'Frank' but more like a wild animal, and Frank moaned around him, sucking him dry and then licking him clean. Matt couldn't hold himself up by that point, hands white-knuckled as they gripped Frank's sturdy shoulders. 

He was tucked back into his pants and then Frank was pushing him up against the wall again, licking into his mouth and chasing his tongue. “You taste good, baby,” he growled against his lips, biting the plump curve of Matt's lower lip. 

Matt was grateful to sink to his knees, head fuzzy and body heavy, and he already had his mouth open before Frank had himself in hand. The marine hummed approvingly, free hand pulling Matt's mask off and tangling into his hair. He fucked Matt's mouth more vigorously than the first time, pushing in deep and holding Matt in place until his eyes were watering and his throat spasming, pulling back just before he started gagging and repeating the whole thing over. 

It was a revelation to find out that he enjoyed being used like this. It was simple, this, to open his mouth and take it, to focus on nothing but Frank and pull pleasured groans out of him. It was easy to lose himself like this, to forget everything, even the fact they were outside on a rooftop and somebody could see them. 

_Let them see_ , he thought giddily, _who's gonna believe them?_

Because it was crazy. It was crazy and absurd but it felt so good that Matt didn't give a damn. When he took Frank's advice and just stopped thinking for a hot minute, it felt better than anything else in his miserable, painful life. He just had to keep up the not thinking part afterwards, too. It should have easy enough given that Frank didn't exactly stick around long after. 

Frank pulled back just when Matt was sure he was going to come, fisting the base of his cock tightly. “Keep your mouth open,” he ordered, voice sinfully gruff and deep, like tires on gravel. Matt opened his mouth, blushing bright red when he realised what Frank was doing as his hand stroked his cock fast, and Matt had just a moment of doubt before Frank was grunting and he felt his cum spurting into his mouth. 

His lips closed impulsively, it was just too much and too weird but he swallowed what was in his mouth anyway, and the next spurt hit his lips and dripped down his chin, which was worse, really. Frank growled at the sight though, and before Matt could wipe it away he was rubbing it in with his cock. Matt made a noise of disgruntled surprise and Frank slipped into his mouth, and his tongue flicked out automatically, swiping over and wringing a shudder from Frank. 

When Frank pulled away and righted his clothes, he was breathing heavily and watching Matt wipe the cum off his face.

“Told you to keep your mouth open,” Frank chuckled at Matt's scrunched up face. 

“It was weird,” Matt retorted, pulling his mask back in place. “Last time you didn't get it in my mouth.”

“Your first mouthful of cum,” Frank said with that smug attitude. “I'm honoured.”

“Bite me,” Matt replied, but it was ineffectual when his mouth still tasted like Frank. Frank just grinned that predatory smirk and grabbed Matt, pulling him into a deep kiss and chasing the taste of himself on Matt's tongue. He bit Matt's lip hard enough to draw blood and Matt moaned at the burst of pain, the way their next kiss tasted like his blood, mingling with Frank's taste.

Matt could get used to this. More than used to it, even. He could get addicted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a shot because I finished formatting this chapter and then accidentally clicked away from the page so, yeah. Fuck me, I hate going through and italicising everything. Anyway, here you are, another long chapter of filth. 
> 
> And oh my god guys, did you see the new pictures of The Punisher? Ave Maria, gratia plena, redeem my wretched soul, for the sinful thoughts I had looking at Frank's whole mountain man thing were too extra even for me. I'm gonna find a way to work his new look into later chapters because god damn I'd sell my soul for that particular beardburn.

The next time Frank turned up at Matt's place he wasn't even hurt.

He wasn't in his Punisher gear either, opting instead for dark ensemble of jeans, hoodie, and a pair of lived-in leather boots. He had a baseball cap pulled low over his face which he discarded once he was inside, having knocked this time but still coming in via the roof. It made Matt feel like he had a dirty little secret, which in turn made him realise that he did. Frank was his dirty little secret. 

And Matt? Matt was most definitely a booty call and completely okay with it.

Frank was right, he had been pushing himself too hard, so their interludes of desperate, rough sex gave him something to break up the fighting with. It was nice, having someone touch him intimately, hearing Frank's rugged voice call him _baby_ and the corresponding flush of warmth that flooded his body. 

“I come bearing gifts,” Frank said, pulling a bottle of reasonably priced whiskey out the brown paper bag he was carrying and pushing it into Matt's hand. “You actually own any glasses?”

Matt smiled, tracing the label with his fingers. “Yeah, smart ass, I do,” he said, carrying the bottle with him into the kitchen and pulling two out of the cupboard. 

He poured them both a double and handed one glass to Frank, taking his and the bottle through to the living room where they settled onto the sofa. The first few sips were in comfortable silence, Matt savouring both the soothing burn of good bourbon and Frank's easy company. He still didn't quite understand how they'd gotten to this point, to sharing a drink between fighting the scum of Hell's Kitchen and exchanging blowjobs on rooftops, but Matt had learned to stop questioning a good thing. 

“Can you tell what I look like?” Frank asked, breaking the silence. He was relaxed in posture but Matt could tell that he was on edge, and couldn't for the life of him figure out why. 

“Sort of. It comes in bits and pieces, more of an outline lacking solid definition than a clear picture. I could see more, if you let me touch you,” he answered. 

“Done plenty of that lately,” Frank sniggered, but Matt knew he was hesitating. Was Frank self conscious?

“I mean, if you let me touch your face, I could get a clearer picture of you,” Matt elaborated.

Frank cleared his throat and took another sip of his drink before he replied. “S'probably for the best. I ain't a pretty boy like you.”

Matt's ears burned but he felt himself smiling. “I already have a fairly good idea of what you look like, Frank. This'd just help sharpen any blurry edges.”

Frank seemed to consider him, weighing his options, but he relented, leaning back in his seat and making a show of relaxing even as his pulse quickened. “Touch away,” he said, motioning with his glass. 

Matt set his on the table and leaned in closer, turning Frank's face towards his. Frank's pulse spiked at Matt's touch but he didn't move or say anything, just kept perfectly still and let Matt press light fingertips to his cheeks. 

Mapping someone's face was an intimate experience for both parties. It required trust and patience. Matt traced his fingers along Frank's cheekbones, feeling some minor swelling under his left eye and a mostly healed contusion. Frank didn't show any signs of pain, so he continued, each hand taking the same route on the opposite side of his face as he moved on to Frank's brow. He trailed a ghost of a touch all over Frank's face, mapping out his bone structure from his crooked nose - _“Broke it thirteen times”_ \- to the soft curve of his mouth and the hard lines of his strong jaw.

“You're handsome, Frank,” Matt murmured, touching his lips with his index finger and tracing the shape. Frank made a sound of derisive amusement but let Matt continue touching him. His fingers felt the hollows of Frank's cheekbones and the tendons of his jaw under bristled skin, pressed harder to feel his jawbone and snaked down his throat, settling on his collarbone. 

Matt felt Frank's hand on his waist and he was being pulled into his lap, Frank still holding his glass in one hand and Matt still touching him.

“Continue,” Frank said, lifting his glass to his lips. 

Matt settled more comfortably in Frank's lap, thighs forced apart wide by Frank's own spread legs. He could feel Frank's erection pressing into his ass and shifted purposefully, Frank making a rumble of pleasure in his throat and sliding his hand down to Matt's ass. He encouraged Matt to roll his hips slowly, sipping lazily from his glass again, and Matt couldn't help but be acutely aware of what a power play it was. Frank was enthusiastic about reminding Matt of his place. Matt was equally enthusiastic in being reminded.

He closed his eyes and just felt for a moment, each pulse of pleasure as his now fully erect cock brushed against Frank's stomach, the dizzying feel of the hard ridge of Frank's cock pressing insistently against his ass. 

He moved one hand to Frank's shoulder to steady himself and let the other one continue touching, moving into Frank's hair to feel the curving planes of his cranium. He let his nails bite gently into his scalp and Frank responded by squeezing Matt's ass and bucking his hips up to meet Matt's languid rolls. 

Matt felt hot, too hot, and there were too many layers between them now. Frank seemed to pick up on Matt's train of thought, because he threw back the last of his whiskey and put the glass on the arm of the chair. He grabbed Matt's ass with both hands and pulled him hard into his lap, grinding up at the same time and making Matt's lips part on a shuddering exhale. Matt clawed lightly at the back of Frank's head again and bent down to kiss him, breathing hard through his nose and feeling a moan building in his throat.

Frank lifted him up again like the first night and Matt's arms and legs wound around him instinctively, holding tight and kissing Frank's neck as he was carried to bed and thrown down, Frank kicking off his boots and following quickly. He took his time unbuttoning Matt's shirt this time, pressing wet kisses to each inch of skin that was exposed as he went, biting occasionally and making Matt whimper in the most embarrassing way. Frank seemed to like it though, so he stopped holding back the noises that were always too eager to escape Matt's throat whenever Frank was touching him.

Frank moved back enough to let Matt shrug out of his shirt but latched his mouth onto Matt's neck and sucked a bruise into it, right above where his collar would cover. Matt shivered, remembering Frank's promise to _mark him up real pretty_. Matt kicked his shoes off and grabbed handfuls of Frank's shirt, tugging insistently until Frank chuckled against his neck and pulled it off, tossing it into a corner and returning to Matt's neck.

He let enough of his body weight fall onto Matt, their bodies pressed up close and hot, to make Matt feel trapped in the most tantalising way. Frank's chest hair bristled against Matt's responsive nipples and he moaned as Frank undulated his hips into him, sucking another bruise into his neck. He moved to suck Matt's earlobe, fingers finding a nipple and pinching, dragging another needy whimper from Matt's lips.

“God, I love how sensitive you are, Red,” Frank said, voice soft but loud against his ear, thick with desire. “That part of the whole heightened senses thing?”

“Yeah,” Matt breathed, biting his lip when Frank tugged at his nipple, letting his nails bite. “Everything feels – shit, do that again,” he moaned when Frank twisted his nipple. He complied and Matt gasped, eyes fluttering shut. “Everything feels so much, oh God, _more_.”

Frank pulled away and Matt tempered down the whine that wanted to humiliate him. He heard the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled down and shuffling as Frank undressed, and then hands were pulling his jeans and underwear off together. Frank was breathtaking when he was naked, all intimidating muscle and hard edges, massive and imposing in every sense. He had hair everywhere, coarse and dark, densest around the girthy jut of his swollen cock. 

He returned to his favourite position between Matt's legs and gripped Matt's thighs to spread his legs wider and pull him closer, his erection laying heavy over Matt's. He didn't make a move to kiss him again, just gazed down at Matt's naked body, eyes lingering on the curve of his cock and the swollen nubs of his nipples, hovering at the bruises purpling his skin and of course, Matt's lips. Matt bit his lip purposefully, giving his best imitation of a heavy-lidded look of lust, and the dark, animalistic sound Frank made sent chills down his spine.

Frank swooped down and claimed his mouth in a biting, bruising kiss that was all dominance and mindless lust, messy and just the right side of painful. He fisted them both in his hand and stroked, Matt rocking up to meet his hand and feeling on fire with the slick slide of their cocks. 

Frank broke the kiss and they panted against each other's mouth for long seconds. “How much more do you feel everything?” he demanded, nipping at Matt's jaw. 

“A lot more,” Matt managed to say, and Frank bit harshly at his throat. “Okay, okay! I feel every millimetre of where we're touching, every different texture, every different temperature.” He paused to clutch at Frank's shoulders, fingernails biting into his skin when Frank rubbed his thumb into Matt's slit. Matt cried out and bucked up into Frank's fist. 

“I feel like everywhere you touch you're burning me and shocking me at the same time, but it feels _so good_ ,” he gasped and it devolved into a whine when Frank let go of his erection. 

“What would it feel like if I fucked you?” Frank asked, and he circled one finger around Matt's entrance. Matt choked on air, feeling his hole clench instinctively. 

“Jesus Christ,” Matt whimpered. “I don't know. You know I don't know.”

“Want to find out?” Frank asked, pressing harder and massaging purposefully. 

Matt felt his cheeks burning and his cock twitched. “I don't know... I don't-” Frank pushed the tip of his finger into Matt and he felt all the air leave his lungs. It didn't hurt, it burned a little, Frank's finger too dry, but it didn't hurt. Yet. “Yeah. Yeah, Frank.”

Frank's pulse shot up and he pushed his finger a little further into Matt, thrusting shallowly. “Lube?” he asked, voice rasping and deep with feral arousal. 

“Nightstand,” Matt replied, and Frank's finger and warmth left him as Frank moved to get the supplies. “Condoms're there too.”

“Didn't say shit about rubbers, Red,” Frank responded glibly. Matt frowned even though his traitorous cock gave an eager twitch of perverse excitement. “Gonna fuck you raw and fill you with my cum, baby.”

“Frank, that's just – that's just unsanitary, not to mention unsafe,” Matt protested as Frank climbed back onto the bed, pulling Matt's legs apart as he'd closed them. “Frank!”

“Are you clean?” Frank asked, flipping the cap and squirting a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. 

“Yeah, I'm clean but-”

“So am I.” Frank shrugged, and he pressed one finger against Matt's hole, rubbing lube into the tight furl. Matt's legs tightened around Frank's waist, his ass tilted up by Frank to ease the way. 

“You could be lying. _I_ could be lying,” Matt pointed out, closing his eyes and biting his lip when Frank's finger pushed into him slowly. The sensation was foreign but not entirely unpleasant. His cock was still interested, anyway.

“Well I'm not,” Frank said, and thrust his finger in and out of Matt. There was less drag this time, the lube slicking the way for Frank's big, calloused finger. “Fucking hell, Red, you look so fucking hot right now.” 

He pushed his finger in deeper and Matt pushed his hips tentatively into it. He felt Frank's knuckles come flush with his ass, his finger buried in Matt's tight heat. Matt made a noise that was something like pleasure and moved to touch himself but Frank slapped his hand away and tsk'd. 

“No touching,” he said, amusement lacing his tone. 

“Why?” Matt whined, and Frank grinned, thrusting his finger faster into Matt and wiggling it around, stretching his hole. Matt fisted the sheets. 

“I want you to focus on this. Just feel this, baby,” Frank purred, and he pulled his finger out. Matt made a noise of complaint and Frank smirked, pushing two fingers roughly into his hole and making Matt yelp at the sudden, thicker intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, gritting his teeth as his body stretched around Frank's digits. He twisted the sheets in his grasp, breath coming in ragged as Frank thrust steadily into him, scissoring his fingers and stretching out his hole. 

“Look so perfect like this, baby,” Frank purred, curling his fingers and thrusting harder. He pressed into something – his prostate, his brain supplied – and Matt moaned wantonly, shoving his hips down in a silent plead for more. “You like that, baby? Like my fingers in your ass?”

Matt nodded, body trembling with how full he already felt and the sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. “Do it again.”

Frank slapped the side of his thigh hard. “Manners,” he chided, and Matt's eyes widened in shock. 

“Do it again, _please_ ,” he amended, although he had half a mind to be insolent just for the punishment. When did he become such a glutton for that, exactly? 

Frank thrust his finger hard into him again, hooking them just right to glance his prostate, and after a few passes that had the pads of his fingers dragging teasingly over it Matt whined and tried to push his fingers deeper. Frank stilled him with a hand on his hip, holding him down. 

“Stay still,” he instructed, spreading his fingers wide and making Matt's heart stutter. “And beg for it.”

“I'm not begging,” Matt huffed, but the teasing pulses of too-sort pleasure were becoming frustrating now that he knew what it _could_ feel like. Frank's hand closed around his throat before he could react, not cutting off his air but holding firm enough that he had to work harder for his breath. It was a warning. It wasn't enough. 

“I can do this all night. Keep fucking you with just two fingers, keep teasing you like this until you're desperate for more, and I'll _deny_ it until you beg like the good boy I know you can be.” Frank's voice was sin, Frank himself was sin, sin incarnate. He did the worst things to Matt's self control, but Matt knew that was all part of the game. The hand on his throat tightened and Matt's heart raced to a prestissimo rhythm. 

“Please,” he whispered, voice catching in his throat. “Please, please Frank, please do it again, ple- oh, fuck!” he howled when Frank's fingers pushed hard into his prostate and rubbed there. 

“Good boy,” Frank purred, loosening his grip on Matt's throat but Matt stopped him with a hand over his. 

“No, please, choke me,” Matt begged, and Frank instantly gripped hard enough to close his airway off and pulled his fingers out just to push back in with three. This time it burned but the pain was good, it was subtle. 

“You keep on surprising me, Red,” Frank said with something like pride in his voice, working him loose with quick thrusts and stretching his fingers wide. 

Matt felt his head swimming and Frank, ever attuned to him, loosened his grip and air rushed into Matt's straining lungs. Once he'd decided Matt had had enough oxygen, his fingers squeezed harder and his palm pressed down firmly. Matt was grinding mindlessly down onto Frank's fingers which were missing his prostate altogether now in favour of loosening him up, and when they retreated and Frank let go of his throat Matt had barely a second to process what was happening before he felt Frank's cock nudging his loosened entrance.

“Stay relaxed and bear down,” Frank advised, stroking a hand down Matt's chest and toying with one of his nipples. He held one of Matt's thighs up and bent down to kiss him, pushing his leg against his chest and teasing his entrance with his erection. “And don't forget to breathe.”

He pushed in slowly and Matt whimpered into Frank's mouth as he was filled. Frank stilled when he'd slipped his cockhead past the tight rings of muscles and groaned, the sound going straight to Matt's dick. His hole fluttered around Frank's cock and he broke the kiss to gasp in air, willing his body to let Frank inside even as the girth of the tip alone made Matt ache.

“Holy shit,” he whimpered, crying out when Frank thrust in further and the stretch burned as his hole was forced wider. “It hurts.”

Frank shushed him in a soothing tone, hand returning to his throat and holding him down without cutting off his air. The feeling was grounding and toe-curling all at once. 

“Just relax, baby, and let me in.” He pulled out until he was barely inside Matt and then thrust back in, taking his time but relentlessly splitting Matt open. “Know you can take me, baby, know you can do it. Just keep breathin'.”

“Oh god, you're so, you're so fucking big,” Matt choked out the words through breathless whimpers. “Jesus Christ, you're so big, _Frank_.”

Frank squeezed his throat in reaction to the words, a growl ripping out of his chest. Matt felt his cock twitching inside of him and then he was pulling out again, shoving back inside so hard it made tears mist Matt's eyes. Frank's control seemed to have finally broken and he snapped his hips forward harder, bending Matt further in half and pressing his thumb into his carotid. Matt's head went dizzy instantly. He felt like he was floating even as he was held down and fucked, skin on fire everywhere Frank was touching him. Frank's muscles rippled with his movements, biceps bulging and abs contracting with his thrusts. 

Matt felt impossibly full and the feeling was so fulfilling he wondered why he'd never done this before, wondered if it was only because it was Frank. 

“All the way in now, baby,” Frank growled, grinding his hips where they were flush with Matt's ass. “Tell me how it feels.”

No wonder he felt so fucking full. He marvelled at his own body, at the way he'd taken every inch of that gloriously thick, vascular cock like his body was made for this. 

_Well, if it wasn't, God shouldn't've put the prostate in our asses_ , he thought crudely. Frank's thumb let up it's pressure and Matt felt some coherence returning to him. He slipped his hand down between them where they were joined and felt where Frank disappeared into him, the taut rim of his stretched-out hole struggling to accommodate Frank's massive length. 

“Frank, please,” he whined, still faintly embarrassed at Frank's insistence that he be vocal. He was never vocal during sex, definitely nothing like he was with Frank. 

“Please what?” Frank circled his hips against him and Matt threw his head back with a strangled moan.

“It's embarrassing,” he confessed, and Frank laughed darkly. 

“Good,” he said, pulling out and bottoming out again, Matt crying out his name and scrabbling to hold onto his forearm, the one holding him down by the neck. “Like watching you squirm and blush all pretty, Red.” He kept up a steady pace, pulling out almost all the way before forcing him open again. “Tell me how it feels.” 

“I can feel – fuck, I can feel every vein in your cock rubbing my insides, I can feel every ridge and curve,” he rambled, and once the dam was burst he found he couldn't stop. “I feel so full, so stretched open, I've never felt like this before.”

Frank was grunting with each thrust, breathing heavily and watching himself disappear into Matt's body, watching his swollen rim stretch taut and tight. “Keep talking baby.”

Matt moaned as Frank picked up the pace, the pain gone but the ache present enough to make Matt think that he'd be limping the next day if he could walk at all. Frank released his throat to grab his hips and pull him into each thrust, angling upwards so that he rubbed against Matt's prostate with each pass of his cock and Matt _sobbed_ , fisting the sheets hard and pulling until the silk was tearing in his hands. 

“Jesus, fuck, Frank, please,” he babbled, and his cock was so hard it hurt and he wanted to touch himself so bad so he did, he reached for his cock and fisted it, moaning desperately as Frank slammed into him, eyes focused on Matt's face now. 

“So fucking tight,” Frank moaned loudly, pounding brutally into Matt. “So fucking good, baby.” He lifted Matt's legs over his shoulders and bent him double, seizing his mouth in a sloppy kiss that was all need and no finesse and absolutely _perfect_. 

Matt didn't even need to stroke himself, he just fisted his cock tightly as his body was driven into the mattress and each slam of Frank's hips thrust his cock into his hand. Frank abruptly pushed two fingers into his mouth and growled out an order to suck and Matt did, tasting them both on Frank's fingers and moaning around the digits. Frank's hand tightened on his hip and he pulled fully out of Matt and slammed back inside, the force of it pushing Matt up the bed, slick skin sliding on the ruined silk.

The noise that Matt made was broken and desperate and would be heard downstairs but he didn't care, he just moaned and gasped out frantic, fractured expletives and incoherent pleas so loud his throat felt raw. Frank's usual tirade of filth had devolved into guttural groans of pleasure but he paused just long enough to turn Matt over and manhandle him onto his hands and knees. Matt felt his knees buckle but Frank held him up with his strong arms, one wrapped around his middle and gripping his cock and the other tight around his chest as he guided Matt to sink down onto his thick cock. 

Matt's legs were spread wide and bracketed Frank's, and the new position let his cock push in deeper than before and Matt trembled as he was filled, Frank's name a strangled shout as he was seated fully. Frank rolled his hips up and in circles, stirring his cock deep inside Matt and wringing hoarse, sweet little moans out of him. Frank cupped his throat with his hand again, gentle pressure until Matt clawed at his hand.

“Do it, choke me,” he pleaded, circling his hips. “Choke me and fuck me harder, you fuckin-” 

His throat closed up as Frank choked him and growled in his ear, pulling Matt up and off his cock and shoving him back down as he thrust back up into him. Pain was woven with the pleasure and it made Matt's cock throb where it hung heavy and neglected, but Frank kept up his brutally fast pace and pulled him down to meet his thrusts, hands bruising on his neck and hip. Matt his mind going dark and dull at the edges and his orgasm was building, and _Jesus Christ_ , he might come without a hand on him.

Frank's breath was hot in Matt's ear, and he licked a stripe up the side of his face. Matt's eyes opened wide in shock and Frank's laughter was brief and made Matt's toes curl. He loosened his chokehold just enough to make sure Matt didn't pass out on him. 

“Gonna come for me, baby?” he growled into his ear, gravelly baritone wrecked with his impending climax. Matt could feel it in the way his thrusts were growing wild and careless, could hear it in his blood. He angled his hips and his next thrust in hit Matt's prostate and he would have screamed if he had the oxygen. Frank kept up the new angle, pounding into Matt just as hard and loosening his grip on his throat enough to hear the husky cries that had been vibrating under his hand. 

“Come for me, baby, let me see you come,” he demanded, grinding into Matt's prostate and biting down on the join of his shoulder, teeth piercing the skin. 

Matt screamed hoarsely and his hole clenched tightly around Frank's cock as his orgasm ripped out of him almost painfully, semen shooting up his own chest and striping his skin. He was abruptly pushed face down roughly and Frank held him down with a hand on the back of his neck and pounded relentlessly into his clenching hole. 

“Oh god, please stop, I'm too sensi– _Frank_ , please,” he sobbed into the sheets. 

Franks hips stuttered and he pushed as deep inside of Matt's ass as he could before Matt felt his cum hot inside of him, and he had forgotten all about condoms. He had forgotten everything, probably even his mother's name and where he lived, overstimulated and weak from his climax. He heard Frank groan his name, his real one, and his muscles clenched around Frank, making him slap his ass hard but that only made him clench again involuntarily and he choked a moan. 

He pulled out and it left Matt feeling loose and empty. He grimaced and collapsed onto the bed, feeling Frank's weight drop next to him and his arm pull him close. Matt turned weakly into the embrace and winced when he felt cum trickling out of his abused hole. God, he was going to hurt tomorrow. He was already starting to hurt now, coming down of whatever kind of fucked up high that was. His mind automatically catalogued every ache and pain, from his ass to the bites littered on his body and the hand-shaped bruises that would be there for _days_.

Franks hand stroked small circles into his back and Matt sighed in content. “That was intense. I don't think I'll be able to walk tomorrow,” he sighed, and it was testament to what a good fuck Frank was that he giggled and didn't give a shit.

Frank's answering laugh was as light as it could be for someone with that voice. “Don't think you'll be walking for the rest of the week, Red, I ain't done with you yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly you know the drill by now. You likey? You writey. Please gratify me, I'm like our own Matt Murdock, desperate to hear I've done good lmao. I love hearing from my readers, you guys keep me motivated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we're back with chapter whatever this is. Sorry for the delay folks, but things'll probably be spaced out more like this from now on because I'm back at uni.

Somehow Frank Castle slotted into Matt's life like he had always been there. He stayed at Matt's for three days and part of him wondered if it was his way of forcing Matt to take some down time, even if his body was worse for wear because of it. They barely left the bedroom and when they did it was because Frank wanted to fuck him in every room of his apartment. Matt would never be able to be in any room without remembering what had happened there. Bent over the kitchen counter, riding Frank on the couch, on his knees in the shower, even pushed up against the front door so that his poor fucking neighbour got an earful.

His apartment – his life – that had been so empty before was suddenly occupied by Frank's presence. Frank left Matt in a breathless, sweaty heap on the bed on day two to go shopping, returning with food, booze, and a fucking TV. He cooked croque monsieur and brewed coffee in Matt's ancient percolator while it played a stupid sitcom that Matt relentlessly teased him about enjoying. He heated up tomato soup, decent stuff that wasn't out of a can and Matt wondered where the hell he'd gone shopping, and served it to Matt on the couch. He changed the channel to an animal documentary and described the animals while they ate together, Matt curled into his side with a blanket around his shoulders. 

The whole thing was sickeningly domestic and Matt loved it.

On day three they went up on the roof for fresh air because Matt genuinely couldn't walk without limping and Frank was fucking delighted, taking every opportunity to remind him why he couldn't walk straight. Matt had made coffee and poured it into a thermos and Frank had boxed the leftovers of the pizza they'd ordered the night before, both too exhausted to cook.

Autumn was cooling the hot streets of Hell's Kitchen and Frank had made Matt wear a jacket. The Punisher had made him wear a jacket so he didn't catch a cold.

What the fuck was his life becoming?

Frank had brought cushions from Matt's sofa and arranged them for him to sit on. Matt's heart skipped a beat at the gesture even as his face flushed because of the reason why he needed a comfortable seat.

Matt tried to ignore the city and listen only to Frank's story about seeing one of his war buddies get shot in the ass, and not even sirens could make him want to hear anything but the way Frank snorted when he laughed too hard, his big body shaking from the belly. They shared the pizza, Frank picking off the mushrooms Matt had insisted on and giving them to Matt, the coffee keeping them warm but the company doing a better job of it. 

It wasn't until Frank had his arm wrapped around Matt and Matt had his head on Frank's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, that he realised this was sort of a date. He was sort of dating Frank Castle.

“Frank, are we... is this a date?” he asked before he could psych himself up and chicken out.

“Greasy pizza and a fucking blanket on a rooftop, you bet your sweet ass it's a date,” Frank replied, grinning into Matt's hair. Matt laughed, tilting his face up to nuzzle Frank's neck. He breathed his scent in, that heady, masculine musk that was all over Matt's sheets. 

“How does this work exactly?” Matt asked, and Frank hummed a quizzical noise. “Us. We're still... we're still what we are, we still do what we do.”

“I dunno,” Frank admitted. “Didn't exactly expect to find myself here.”

Matt tucked his head into the crook of Frank's neck. “I like this,” he murmured sleepily. 

“Me too,” Frank said, voice thick with emotion that Matt didn't need his abilities to detect.

 

On day four Frank left him with a kiss that turned into a makeout session against Matt's door, promising to see him soon, Matt's number in his contacts list. He left with a grin on his face that quickly dropped when he came face to face with Foggy Nelson.

“What the fuck,” Foggy whispered, looking between Frank and Matt with wide eyes that narrowed into suspicious slits and widened into saucers again when he took in Matt's dishevelled appearance and kiss-bitten lips. “Holy fuck.”

Frank smirked at him and patted him on the shoulder. “See you around, Red,” he said over his shoulder and left Matt blushing beetroot in front of his... friend of some kind. He wasn't sure where he stood with Foggy any more.

“Foggy, what're you d-doing here?” he stuttered, folding his arms over his chest to stop himself from taming his hair. There was no point. Foggy wasn't dumb and he had obviously put two and two together.

“What am I doing here? What is Frank Castle doing here? Why-” he looked around the hall and barged into Matt's apartment, slamming the door. “Matt, are you fucking The Punisher?”

Matt gaped, tugging at his hair and sighing. “Are you asking as a friend?” 

“I'm asking as someone who just saw The Punisher walk outta your apartment like he just got laid, who sees _you_ right now covered in – Jesus, Matt, you're covered in bruises!” Foggy exclaimed. “Is he hurting you?”

“No, Foggy, he's not hurting me.”

“You sure? Cause it really looks like you've been through the meat grinder there pal.” Foggy tugged at his tie nervously. “Jesus, Matt. I hadn't heard from you in so long and I was actually worried about you, you know? And apparently I was right to worry 'cause you must have lost your God damn mind, Matt, if you're shacking up with The Punisher!”

“Will you stop calling him that?” Matt snapped. “Unless you wanna start calling me Daredevil.”

“So, what, you two are dating now?” Foggy asked, and he sounded more and more in disbelief with every word, voice pitching higher. 

“I – we...” Matt fumbled, sighing in frustration and highly aware of the ache in his ass as he shifted on his feet. “Yes.” 

Foggy just stared at him until Matt wanted to punch him just to get a different reaction. “Holy shit,” he whispered eventually, looking pale and uncomfortable. 

“Want some coffee? Something stronger?” Matt offered, because for all that this was uncomfortable for him he could tell Foggy's mind was just about breaking.

Foggy nodded weakly. “Something stronger,” he agreed and they finally left the hall, Foggy venturing to the sofa where he threw down his messenger bag and Matt to the kitchen. He tempered down the blush that wanted to heat his cheeks as he was vividly reminded of straddling Frank as he rode him on that sofa, but he didn't think Foggy wanted to know that there wasn't exactly a safe surface in his apartment any more.

He got them both a beer and passed one to Foggy who was staring at the TV like it was a rabid rottweiler. “You got a television?” he asked.

“Yeah uh, Frank got it. Said he hated how quiet this place was all the time.” He drank some of his beer even though it wasn't even midday, feeling a headache brewing that he wanted to numb away as quickly as possible. 

“He pay for it?” Foggy asked in a serious tone, but Matt couldn't help laughing.

“I didn't ask. I think so. It was still in the box and he had a lot of receipts, so...”

“This is so weird,” Foggy groaned, finally collapsing into a chair. Not the sofa, thank god. “This is so weird, Matt!” he said again for emphasis. “You're not even gay! I mean, I thought you were straight but well, my ideas of you haven't exactly been on the mark lately. Jesus, Matt, you're _Catholic_.”

“So's Frank,” Matt said. “And I'm not gay, I'm just... you know, it doesn't even matter. I'm dating a man, I've dated women in the past, it is what it is.”

“It is what it is?” Foggy repeated, voice the wrong side of hysterical. “So are you just okay with dating a mass murderer? Matt, he tried to kill you!”

“He didn't try to _kill_ me,” Matt sighed, abandoning his beer and fetching the decent whiskey that Frank had bought. It was a lie, Frank had absolutely tried to kill him numerous times. “It was just – the warning shot, fighting, just... vigilante shit. And I haven't really figured out any of this, okay? It's still new.”

“How new?”

“Like a couple of weeks new.” Matt brought the bottle to his lips and it tasted like Frank's mouth. They'd taken the bottle to bed without glasses, taking turns sipping from it. “So this isn't because Frank's a guy?”

Foggy sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. “Matt, you _know_ I'm not homophobic. I don't give a shit what you do with your life,” he said and Matt winced, realising the truth in those words now. “But you're not dating just any guy, you're dating Frank Castle! He's like, fifty kinds of wanted and he's a killer, Matt!”

“I know who he is,” Matt snapped. “Foggy, why're you here?”

Foggy looked a little crestfallen. “I told you I was worried about you, and yeah, believe me I know it's not my place to be worrying about you any more but so long as you're out there beating up bad guys, I'm gonna worry about you, Matt. We're friends.”

“Are we?” Matt asked. “I thought Nelson and Murdock were done.”

Foggy sighed, evidently feeling as awkward as Matt. “You're an asshole, and our business fell to shit because of you, but Matt, I care about you. We've known each other forever and you're a blind vigilante, for Christ's sake. If you were just another guy I wouldn't need to worry about you.”

“You don't need to worry about me. I'm not your responsibility.”

“Yeah, no shit. But do you know what it's like to read about you in the papers and think, 'Oh my god, this is the day they pull Matt out of the river'? Least I used to see you at the office, now I never know if you're...” he trailed off, and Matt filled in the blank: _dead_. Foggy was scared about losing Matt for real. 

“Are you going to try and convince me to stop again?” Matt asked wearily. 

“No,” Foggy said with conviction. “I can't change you, Matt, and I shouldn't want to because that's not a good friend thing to do but I wanna. I wish you'd stop this whole vigilante thing so I could stop scouring the news for mentions of your alter ego turning up in a ditch, but I know better now. You said this is who you are and I believe you. I just... can't handle this shit, Matt. The silence, the pretending we weren't friends before this shit started.”

Matt could hear how hard it was for Foggy to tell him all of this. “Doesn't have to be that way,” Matt said, even as part of his mind knew that it did, that it should stay that way. Foggy was safer the further he was from Matt. 

“I don't know if I can be friends with Daredevil,” Foggy admitted. 

“Well, why don't you give Matt Murdock a shot first, then?” 

 

Frank sent him a text after Foggy had left and he wondered if he was loitering somewhere with a visual on his apartment. 

**FC:** _Well that was awkward_. 

Matt rolled his eyes and fired back a message.

 **MM:** _No shit. Foggy freaked out. He's OK now. I think._

He cleaned the apartment, paying extra attention to the places he'd fucked Frank and ending up semi-hard, memories impossible to repress as his mind flashed with thoughts of all the devious new things Frank had taught him. He left the television on in the background tuned into some medical drama he was ridiculously invested in, and because his place seemed extra empty when it was quiet now. 

He paused in tying the trash bag he was about to haul out and put a hand against the wall, leaning heavily. Shit. He wasn't supposed to get used to Frank. But they were dating know, they'd talked about it brief though it was and he'd even told Foggy. This was a thing that was really happening. 

Matt was dating Frank Castle.

 _Just how the fuck did that happen, exactly?_ he thought, mind reeling as the enormity of the situation hit him. Had it hit Frank too? If it hadn't, would he run when it did? Matt had just succeeded in opening himself up to being hurt again because against all odds he was emotionally invested in Frank now. 

Matt pulled himself together and finished dealing with the trash, washing his hands when he was done and making some coffee. Frank liked strong Colombian stuff so that's what he had, the bag almost empty because Frank drank _a lot_ of coffee. Matt drank more than usual and considering his usual with almost none he was buzzing with extra energy. Energy that Frank was more than happy to take advantage of.

He'd have to take it easy for a couple of days while his body recuperated. He opened the fridge to get the milk and grinned when he noticed the Gatorade on the shelf and Frank's joke about replenishing his potassium levels. Not joking at all, then. Frank had a funny way of looking out for him. Looking _after_ him. 

That was another aspect of their relationship – God, their _relationship_ – that was new to Matt. Frank's appetites were decidedly rough and intense, and they left Matt trembling and weak with his mind splintered and numb. It was the best fucking feeling in the world, but sometimes afterwards he'd get unusually cold and exhausted. Frank explained that it was his body crashing after the rush of chemicals and hormones that made him feel so dreamily ecstatic, and he seemed to know exactly how to make Matt feel better. He stayed with him afterwards, covering him in blankets after he'd cooled down and holding him tight, fetching washcloths to clean him up with or carrying him to the bathroom where he would sit him under the spray of the shower, back to Frank's chest and nestled between his legs.

It was an acutely intimate form of care that Matt had struggled with at first but he'd been too weak to really protest it and in reality it was 100% necessary. Matt had technically been a virgin before Frank – a _virgin_ , how absurd, but it was true, Frank was the first to penetrate him and he hadn't gone easy with him. Matt was always too sore and too muddled in his brain to do more than collapse into bed.

They slept together afterwards, actually slept, Frank always holding him close. Matt liked to fall asleep to the rhythm of Frank's heart, his head on his large, firm chest, or relented in being the little spoon after only the briefest show of indignity. He loved it really. He'd never experienced that before, feeling small, feeling _protected_. He didn't like to think of himself as needing protection but it was a nice feeling nonetheless, and if it was with Frank it was okay. He trusted Frank. He understood Frank for what he was, saw the good and the bad in him and didn't ignore either. He was under no illusions about him and didn't have any expectations at this point.

It was easy. Surprisingly easy. 

So of course it had to all go to Hell. 

 

Frank's protective nature turned out to extend beyond the bedroom and onto the streets of Hell's Kitchen. His protectiveness was for not only Matt Murdock but Daredevil, too. 

They were taking on a group of bikers together when two got Matt pinned down and another came at him with a baseball bat. Frank was occupied with a small gang of them but the second he saw Matt restrained and the biker swinging the bat back for a knock-out blow, he burst away from his attackers and ran to Matt's aid, giving one of them an opening to shoot him. 

The bullet was stopped by Frank's kevlar and he ignored the painful impact to rip the baseball bat out of the biker's hand and fire a shot off point-blank in his face. There was a wild ferocity about him, a malevolent and vengeful energy as he took out each of the men restraining Matt and turned back to the others.

A greasy-haired biker with a bandanna scrabbled to shoot Frank, getting off a wonky shot before Frank shot him in the gut. His face contorted in pain and Matt ran to help, knocking out two men quickly while Frank dealt with the last. He stumbled, clutching his arm, and Matt rushed to help him.

“You're hurt.” Matt reached for his uninjured side, instinctively needing to touch him. “Oh god, they shot you, Frank! You should've just let me deal with them, I was fine!”

“They were about to crack your head open like a watermelon, Red,” Frank said through grit teeth. Matt heard sirens in the distance and ushered Frank to walk. “I couldn't just stand there and do nothin'.”

Matt heaved a sighed and pulled Frank into an alley. Frank staggered so Matt wrapped an arm under him for support. “Shit, we need a car or you're gonna bleed out. Can you hot-wire one? Can you drive like this?”

Frank's breathing was laboured and his heart was racing but getting weaker. The amount of blood he was losing was freaking Matt out and he could hear the bullet shifting against torn muscle where it was lodged in Frank's shoulder. 

“Yeah, just get me to one,” Frank said, and Matt helped him onto the street, keeping a lookout while he broke into the car and ripped out a bunch of wires to stop the alarm. 

They got into the car and Matt found a jacket in the backseat that he used to press to the bullet hole after Frank had gotten the car going, struggling to keep the pressure steady when Frank was driving too fast and swerving all over the place. 

Frank drove in the opposite direction of Matt's place and they arrived at what Matt presumed was Frank's safehouse, a small cabin in a wooded area. Frank was clammy and pale and his heart was weak when they arrived, so Matt had to practically carry him into the cabin and Frank collapsed onto the bed with a pained grunt. He directed Matt to the medkit and tried to undress before Matt ordered him to stop moving since the bullet was still inside. He'd have to undress Frank in an entirely different way to what he was used to.

The hardest thing to get off was the armoured vest. The coat came off easy enough and then it was a struggle to get Frank out of the vest with as little movement as possible, and finally, Matt just cut open his shirt to get to the wound. Frank made a weak attempt at a dirty joke but Matt was too riled up to do more than snap at him. 

“Shit, we gotta get help, I don't know if I can deal with this,” Matt said, panicking. “Do you know anyone we can call?”

“I can do it myself,” Frank replied brusquely. “Just gonna need you to help.”

Matt felt his panic rising; there was no way Frank could perform surgery on himself in his condition, even if Matt didn't doubt that the man had dug out his share of bullets. 

“Frank, you look like shit and your vitals aren't doing so hot,” Matt pointed out while Frank uncapped a bottle of alcohol. “Human heart monitor, remember?”

“Don't remind me,” Frank muttered, face a screwed-up grimace. “Appreciate the concern an' all, but there ain't no-one to call, so if you wanna pull yourself together and make yourself useful, I could use some hot water with lots of salt in it.”

Matt rushed to the small kitchenette and boiled the kettle, searching the cupboards for salt and a big enough container. He ended up using a bucket that he cleaned out thoroughly first, ripping off his gloves and mask to get the job done. He took the water to Frank who threw some shining steel tools into it. 

“What can I do?” Matt asked. 

“Get another thing of hot water so I can wash my hands. Soap, too,” Frank instructed and he complied swiftly, hovering anxiously as Frank scrubbed his hands, handing him a towel when he was done. Frank pulled the tools out of the bucket, barely even reacting to the scalding water. 

“You're like a human x-ray machine too, right? Can you like, hear the bullet? Help me find it without needing to dig around so much?” Frank asked, swaying imperceptibly and making Matt's stomach flip. 

“Yeah, yeah I can do that,” Matt sat next to him and told him to stay quiet, listening closely. The bullet sounded nauseatingly unnatural in Frank's body, the inorganic matter ringing like a bell amidst the wet gurgle of blood and torn flesh. He didn't hear any broken bones and said as much. “Half an inch under your collarbone, about two inches deep. Go in at a slight upwards angle.” 

Frank used a scalpel to widen the entry wound, gritting his teeth so hard through the whole thing that Matt wanted to offer him something to bite down on lest he break his teeth. Once that was done, he dropped the scalpel onto a towel and picked up some forceps, breathing hard through his nose like a wild horse. Matt had forgotten all about being pissed at him, too busy feeling useless. 

“Hey, Red?” Frank said in a pain-roughened voice. “Get me the booze. In the kitchen.” 

Matt retrieved a bottle of the same whiskey that Frank had brought to his place, feeling nostalgic in both a pleasant and awful way. He remembered drinking from the bottle with Frank when he was stitching Matt back together. He remembered drinking the same brand with him before the first time they fucked. 

He pushed the thoughts away and gave Frank the bottle after loosening the cap. He glugged down a large quantity before shoving it in Matt's direction. And then, without any preamble, he dug the forceps into the bullethole and started searching for the bullet.

“Is it intact?” he asked Matt, and the words came out slurred with pain more than the alcohol. 

“Yeah, I don't hear any shards in there,” Matt replied, listening close once more to make sure he was right. “I feel useless right now,” he confessed. 

“Don't. You're blind, ain't your fault.” 

Matt stayed quiet and allowed Frank to concentrate, half of him wondering if he should be comforting Frank or something. They were technically dating, in a manner, but comforting others didn't come easily to Matt and Frank wasn't the type of person to need soothing words and a soft touch. He needed Matt to stay the hell out of the way and let him get on with it. Matt would probably be pissed at him again once he was out of the woods, but he also wanted to give him the worlds best blowjob when this was over and he had his strength back.

This was a really bad idea. Mixing work and whatever it was they had going on. 

Frank yanked the bullet out none too gently and Matt handed him gauze and bandages. “Should probably clean that out first,” he said.

“Prob'ly,” Frank slurred. 

Matt checked in on his vitals – as if he hadn't been anxiously monitoring them the whole time – and found his heartbeat strong enough to not require immediate hospitalisation. He was weak, though, cold too, when Matt pressed a hand to his forehead. Frank grunted in surprise but allowed it. He could probably make it without a transfusion. 

After washing his hands, Matt cleaned out the wound for Frank, who was by this point propped against the headboard with his head tipped back, eyes closed but awake. He didn't say anything when Matt threaded a needed and sutured him, making no sound but for his breathing and no movement but to bring the bottle to his lips. He was almost asleep by the time Matt had him bandaged up, surrounded by bloody gauze and fumbling in the medkit for painkillers. 

“Aspirin or... morphine?” Matt asked, not remotely surprised that Frank kept morphine on hand. 

“Aspirin'll do. Whiskey's done just fine,” Frank mumbled. He swallowed the tablets Matt popped into his hand dry and chased them with a mouthful of whiskey. 

“You should get some sleep,” Matt said, laying his hand on Frank's thigh. 

“Only if you sleep with me,” Frank replied. Matt smiled at him; they both knew Frank would fall asleep soon regardless of whether Matt stayed or not. 

“Sure. Want me take your boots off?” he asked.

Frank rumbled amusement, too tired to laugh. “If I wasn't so tired, that'd prob'ly get me hard.”

Matt laughed, slapping Frank's thigh lightly in admonishment but unlacing his boots and tugging them off anyway. He put them to the side and started pulling his uniform off, searching in the drawers for something to wear. He pulled out a well-worn, soft cotton shirt and pulled it over his head, wincing a little when the motion made pain bloom in his ribs. Hopefully not a fracture but if it was it wasn't the end of the world. 

He cleaned up all the mess and filled two glasses with water, putting one on the nightstand next to Frank and drinking half of the other. Matt crawled into bed, arranging the comforter around them and turning on his side towards Frank, who was lying on his back. 

“Can't hold you,” Frank slurred, sleep close to claiming him. “Sucks.”

Matt smiled and reached to smooth a hand over his forehead, giving in to the desire that had been nagging at him since Frank had gotten shot. Frank mumbled something about it feeling nice before drifting off, and Matt stayed awake for an hour listening to him breathe and monitoring his vitals before he fell asleep, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you forgot I could write things that weren't porn, eh? Don't worry, we'll be back to our regular scheduling soon.


End file.
